


3am

by lockheed_london



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockheed_london/pseuds/lockheed_london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief, night-time interlude</p>
            </blockquote>





	3am

Martin came awake sleepily, sluggishly; for a moment he couldn’t think what had woken him, he was so warm and comfortable, and the flat so dark and still... but when he stretched an arm out behind himself towards Douglas’ side of the bed and found only empty space he knew what had roused him, and woke up a little more.

The next instant, however, Martin distantly heard the toilet flush and smiled gently to himself, eyes closed, as he snuggled a bit further under the duvet. Soon after there came the soft pad of Douglas’ footsteps, a pause, and then a whisper of fabric as he lifted the duvet and the dip of the mattress under his weight. He slid closer to Martin – moving slowly, obviously trying not to wake him – and Martin slurred out something incoherent and shuffled backwards until his back bumped against the warm solidity of Douglas’ chest.

“Hullo,” Douglas whispered, hardly breaking the silence, and Martin reached behind himself to find Douglas’ arm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Martin merely grunted, finding Douglas’ wrist and drawing Douglas’ arm around himself, and sighed in pleasure as Douglas’ grip tightened to pull Martin more firmly against him. Douglas was deliciously warm, even the quick trip to the bathroom through the chilly flat hadn’t caused him to lose too much of his body heat, and Martin melted back against him in sensual bliss. He could stay like this forever, warm and snug in Douglas’ bed, with Douglas’ hand splayed on his stomach and Douglas’ breath in his hair, and Martin yawned, shuffling a little, and stretched gently. It felt so good that the stretch turned into a larger one, a cat-like flex and tensing of his whole body that left him limp with satisfaction and Douglas nuzzling his hair and huffing his amusement at Martin.

Martin moaned a little at him, protesting but too close to sleep to formulate words, and Douglas hummed back at him, his hand rubbing Martin’s stomach soothingly.

At least, it was supposed to be soothing. But now Martin was awake (even vaguely) he became aware that there was one part of him that wasn’t quite as sleepy as the rest, and he pressed his thighs together and felt a sluggish throb of pleasure in his balls and his cock, heavy and half-hard. He exhaled heavily and did it again, this time scissoring his legs so that the fabric of his boxers brushed lightly over his cock in a teasing caress, and his sigh of pleasure threatened to turn into a moan at the end. Douglas shifted, nosing the hair just behind Martin’s ear and breathing a softly interrogative noise to him.

Martin bit his lip. He should just ignore it and try to drift back to sleep. Douglas had only got up to use the loo quickly, he would want to go back to sleep, not be molested for sex. Their time together thus far had shown Martin that, while Douglas might colour his hair and boast of his exploits and generally act like a man half his age, it wasn’t _quite_ true when it came to his sex drive: Douglas took longer to get hard than Martin did, and occasionally he had got Martin off but gently demurred when Martin had gone to reciprocate. It had been with a look in his eye that deterred argument or insistence, and so Martin had cuddled close to him and tried to convey his affection through kisses and touches. It was fine, though. A relationship wasn’t all about sex, other things were nice too. Like this, for example, just lying here cuddled up to each other in the darkness. It didn’t have to lead to sex and orgasms.

And yet now that they’d finally started sleeping together Martin was finding that he just couldn’t get _enough_ of it; Douglas barely had to make a suggestive remark or a pointed look before Martin’s brain would take over and he would start to get hard, his mouth dry and his palms damp. It was almost embarrassing how quickly Martin’s body had become used to sex with Douglas, save that Douglas didn’t seem to think it was something Martin ought to be embarrassed about. In fact Douglas rather loved it, if the smirk on his face and the frequency of the opportunities he took to wind Martin up were any indication.

But all of this meant that more or less as soon as Martin became conscious of the fact that he was half-hard, and that Douglas’ large, gentle hand was stroking his stomach not twelve inches away from where Martin actually wanted it, he felt arousal pull tighter in his belly as his cock grew heavier and stiffer no matter how much he squeezed his eyes closed and breathed deeply and told himself to ignore it.

Martin sighed again, almost a groan; he couldn’t ask Douglas to do this for him, Douglas had been tired when they went to bed earlier, and would be wanting to go back to sleep. Martin had no option but to ignore it until it went away...

...but Douglas – as he so often did – seemed to guess what Martin couldn’t bring himself to say, and he shifted his hand down until his fingertips were just dipping under the waistband of Martin’s boxers.

“Something keeping you awake?” Douglas said, his voice barely above a whisper, and Martin made a tiny noise in the back of his throat. He tensed his stomach muscles and curled his hips up and forward slightly, trying to get close enough to nudge against Douglas’ hand, but succeeding only in making the fabric of his underwear rub against his cock in a tease.

It was enough to make Martin’s breathing quicken, and Douglas exhaled hard against Martin’s hair as he reached further down – on the _outside_ of Martin’s underwear, damn it – and cupped a hand over Martin’s erect cock.

“Would you like some help with this?” Douglas said, his voice rough, and Martin moaned softly.

“ _God_ ,” Douglas growled, but before Martin could ask what had prompted that Douglas was worming his other arm between Martin and the mattress. Martin shifted and tried to coordinate his sleep-heavy body enough to let Douglas work, and then when Douglas had succeeded he wrapped both arms around Martin’s middle, enfolding him in the warm strength of his arms while arousal bloomed and curled through Martin like smoke.

Blindly Martin twisted his head towards Douglas, not knowing quite what he was trying to do – the angle was too awkward for a kiss – but seeking him instinctively, and Douglas’ mouth pressed against Martin’s jaw as his hands pushed under Martin’s clothes, until Douglas had one hand rubbing Martin’s bare stomach and the other cupping his balls.

“Oh,” Martin moaned breathlessly, his stomach fluttering. He was still half-asleep, but he made the effort to turn over, to reach for Douglas to do for him in return, but Douglas tightened his arms and murmured, “No, hush, no. Don’t worry about me.”

“But–” Martin slurred. Douglas’ hand was angled so that Martin’s cock rubbed against his wrist, and Martin sucked in a breath and moaned again.

Douglas hummed a nonsensical reply and his hand on Martin’s stomach flexed and tightened, clutching Martin to him greedily, before loosening his grip and grasping at Martin’s T-shirt.

“Arms up,” Douglas requested softly and Martin obeyed, raising his arms and then rolling onto his front as Douglas worked at his T-shirt, before finally succumbing and sitting up to tug the thing off and fling it vaguely over the side of the bed. He was aware of Douglas fussing around with the pillows, and of the soft press of fabric against his hip, and when he lay back down he found that Douglas had tugged the pillows down so that Martin was half-lying on them, raising his torso up off the bed and – when Douglas pushed his arm back underneath Martin’s side – ensuring that Douglas’ arm wasn’t so crushed under Martin’s torso that he couldn’t actually _do_ anything with it.

Martin sighed deeply, rubbing his cheek against his pillow but tilting his hips into Douglas’ hands when Douglas’ palms pressed firmly on his hipbones. It was delicious to lie here like this, his heart starting to race with arousal even as he tried to coordinate sluggish limbs and open his heavy eyelids, and Martin inhaled deeply and started to reach behind himself once more. He really should get a hand on Douglas’ cock to reciprocate, but Douglas only pressed himself tighter against Martin – effectively stopping Martin’s hand from finding its way between their bodies – and murmured, “No.”

“But I...” Martin began vaguely, and then cut himself off when Douglas’ hands pushed under the waistband of his boxers.

“Let me spoil you,” Douglas purred in his ear, his warm hands cupping Martin’s balls and curling lazily around his cock and Martin let out an undignified whimper.

God, this was like one of his dirty fantasies he used to wank to, back when he was still single and sleeping in his solitary bed: Douglas’ arms around him, that honey and velvet voice in his ear, and Douglas’ hands sure and just slightly rough on his cock.

“Just relax,” Douglas breathed in his ear, letting go of Martin’s cock to trail his fingers through the coarse hair at Martin’s groin, and Martin exhaled hard and tried to tilt his hips to get Douglas’ hand back on him again.

Douglas, as he had demonstrated many times now, knew the value of drawing things out, and Martin closed his eyes and sighed and knotted his hands in the sheets in lieu of reaching for Douglas’ hands to pull them back to where he wanted them.

Even so, Martin couldn’t hold back a whimper when Douglas took his hands away, pulling back, and Douglas murmured, “A moment, give me a moment,” to him.

There was the noise of Douglas fumbling in the bedside table, and Martin lifted his hips off the bed and wriggled slightly to work his boxers down under the curve of his arse and down his thighs, and he had no chance to get them any further before Douglas was back, pressing warmly against his back and purring in his ear, “An excellent use of time, Captain Crieff.”

Like this Martin could feel the fabric of Douglas’ boxers brushing teasingly against his bare arse. And – less teasingly – the cotton of Douglas’ sleep T-shirt against his bare back, and he reached back to grip the hem of it and mumble, “Take this off.”

It hadn’t escaped Martin’s notice that Douglas, under his “Sky God” persona, was acutely aware of the age difference between them; it mostly manifested itself through self-deprecating remarks – that weren’t _quite_ as light and teasing as Douglas tried to pretend they were – and Douglas preferring to be under the covers for sex. It made Martin feel young and stupid in the face of such a complex issue; nothing in his life had prepared him for this, and he combated it by curling close to Douglas at every opportunity, and kicking the covers away during sex, and making enough noise that Douglas could hardly fail to notice how much he turned Martin on.

So now Martin pulled at Douglas’ T-shirt and repeated insistently, “ _Off_ ,” and Douglas said nothing but only pulled away for a moment to comply, and when he lay back down Martin pressed back against him and gave a luxuriant moan at the soft tickle of Douglas’ chest hair against his shoulder blades.

“Better?” Douglas breathed in his ear, and Martin sighed and tilted his face around towards Douglas for a kiss, lust pulsing through him when Douglas wadded the T-shirt up and stuffed it down by Martin’s hips, perfectly placed to catch the mess that Martin would shortly be making. Douglas kissed him softly, lovingly, and Martin lifted his hand to cup Douglas’ jaw while Douglas’ arms wound back around him and Douglas fumbled vaguely with something under the covers.

It was lubricant, there was nothing else it would reasonably be, and Martin was breathless with anticipation until a warm, slick hand closed around him and he moaned loudly. Douglas’ hand was large and warm and just the slightest bit callused, giving Martin exactly the right amount of pressure to push into, and Martin’ hips hitched and nudged forwards almost without conscious thought.

“Yes, there you are,” Douglas murmured to him, and Martin groaned and thrust into Douglas’ grip again. This wasn’t going to take long: everything about this was arousing. The warm intimacy of it being just the two of them, snug under the duvet, the building heat between them, the brush and tickle of Douglas’ chest against Martin’s back as Martin squirmed and rolled his hips, and the cup of Douglas’ other hand around his balls. Douglas tugged at them gently, teasingly, before bending his elbow and straining to reach Martin’s nipples – with Martin lying on Douglas’ arm he could only just reach – and rubbing at them with the perfect balance between rough and teasing.

Martin moaned helplessly. He felt... safe, of all things. Safe, and loved, and cared for, and he gasped for breath and strained to fuck the slick, tight circle of Douglas’ fingers, until his breath started to grow short and Douglas dropped his other hand back down to cup his balls again.

This time it was to squeeze them lightly, and push them firmly up against the root of Martin’s cock as Martin clawed at the sheets and moaned, and Douglas said raggedly, “Yes, that’s it, come on darling...”

That was what did it: the strong, steady clasp of Douglas’ arms around him, the exquisite squeeze of Douglas’ hands on his cock and balls, and the deep purr of Douglas’ voice in his ear, calling Martin his darling, and Martin moaned harshly and gripped the sheets as he jerked and started to pulse in Douglas’ hand.

Douglas’ arms tightened around Martin as he shuddered, the T-shirt that Douglas – _wonderful_ Douglas – had strategically placed catching the mess, and when the warm, bone-shaking waves of orgasm receded Martin went limp with a groan of pure sensual bliss. Douglas’ arms loosened in response, giving Martin room to breathe but still holding him in a possessive curl of limbs, and Martin shuffled and scissored his legs until he managed to turn over to be nose to nose with Douglas.

It was more like nose to collarbones but, undeterred, Martin mouthed a sloppy, grateful kiss against Douglas’ skin and was vaguely aware of Douglas fumbling behind him, wiping his hands on his own discarded T-shirt before dropping it over the side of the bed to join Martin’s.

“Are you sure...” Martin slurred, sliding a hand down Douglas’ stomach pointedly; he got just far enough to press his hand against the front of Douglas’ boxers and find that – while Douglas’ cock was perhaps slightly thicker than usual – he certainly wasn’t hard. But at that moment Douglas’ hand, still slightly sticky, caught his wrist and drew him away.

“I’m fine,” Douglas said gruffly, but the next instant his hand cradled Martin’s head gently, stroking his fingers through Martin’s hair. “Don’t worry about me.”

Martin made a vaguely protesting noise at this. He still had pleasant tingles running through his limbs, and sleep was stealing up on him again. It seemed only fair that Douglas should get _something_ out of this, but as Douglas gathered Martin close and kissed his hair, he sighed like a man who was already getting precisely what he wanted.

“Tomorrow,” Martin said, undeterred, and interrupted himself with a wide yawn.

“Yes,” said Douglas, and Martin could hear the smile in his voice.

Let him laugh. Martin snuggled close into Douglas’ arms and rubbed his cheek against the warmth of his skin. Martin would make it up to him tomorrow. An afternoon blowjob on the sofa: Douglas sitting on the sofa with knees spread wide and jeans unfastened, Martin kneeling on the floor with a cushion under his knees and his shirt off.

Douglas was a very visual person, Martin had realised by now. He liked to _watch_ Martin during sex, and Martin would make sure to tilt his face up, to give Douglas an excellent view of his cock sliding in and out of Martin’s mouth, and of how Martin’s lips would grow red and wet and his cheeks would flush the longer he kept at it. And Martin was experienced enough that he knew how to keep at it for a very long time indeed – long enough to give Douglas time to build up to it, and then to let him linger on the edge a bit to enjoy the breathless, shivery feeling of pending orgasm – before Martin would even _think_ of letting Douglas finish. Perhaps Martin would even open his own jeans and touch himself while he did it. On one previous occasion Martin had managed to work himself to orgasm with Douglas’ cock in his mouth, moaning frantically and shaking through it, and the kiss that Douglas had given him in the aftermath had been nothing short of incendiary despite them both being entirely shagged out.

Warm and comfortable, Martin wriggled a little to kick his boxers the rest of the way off, pressed his smile into Douglas’ chest, and drifted off to sleep, Douglas’ arm heavy around him and his arm wrapped around Douglas, tucked against each other like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces.

**End**


End file.
